


Cosmetic Appeal

by Shoshanna Gold (shoshannagold)



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-30
Updated: 2009-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-06 14:33:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoshannagold/pseuds/Shoshanna%20Gold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: lipstick</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cosmetic Appeal

Brad could have gone home after surfing, but Walt met a girl last week who'd invited him to a club, then Lilley decided it'd be a good time, and Gabe didn't have plans... The next thing Brad knew he'd agreed to chauffeur half the platoon. Better than letting the fuckers drive drunk and go off a cliff, after shepherding them through Iraq. Bad return on his investment, that.

So here he is, at this meat market that passes for San Diego's newest hot spot, leaning against bar and ignoring the blonde beside him who is looking him over, a clear invitation in her eyes. It's been years since he's been inclined to pick up at a bar like this, all these girls with big hair and fake tits who can't give a blowjob to save their lives. Not that most hookers rely on their natural assets for their paycheck, but they at least know what to do with a dick in their mouth.

"You're drinking _Budweiser_?" Nate's going to have to try harder if he wants to sneak up on him, but that has more to do with Brad than Nate's recon skills. Put them in a room with a thousand people and he'd locate Nate in under a minute. He's come to terms with what that means.

"It's all they have in a bottle, and I'm not drinking down the watered-down piss on tap here."

"You could have a cooler. They have the peach ones."

He just looks at Nate, who laughs. "Then again, maybe not."

The top few buttons of Nate's shirt are undone, and Brad can see a hint of collarbone, skin red from the sun today. Something glimmers on his collar. Brad starts to wipe it off, then pauses, and sniffs his fingers, eyes on Nate's. "You've got lipstick on your shirt, sir."

"The girl I was dancing with got a little too friendly." He doesn't pull away from Brad, or lower his eyes, or blush, none of the million little tells Brad ignored, his last year with Liv. "It's nothing, Brad."

"There's some on your mouth, too." Nate raises his hand to wipe it away. "Don't."

Nate stops at Brad's abrupt command, surprise then anger flashing across his face. Brad doesn't give him the chance to say anything. "I believe you. But -- don't."

"Let's finish this conversation somewhere more quiet," Nate says, his eyes still narrow. Brad is once again aware of the thumping music, the writhing bodies barely two feet away. He nods, not that it matters, because Nate's already heading for an exit.

They end up in the alley, butts and empties everywhere. Nate stops about twenty feet from the door, turns and glares at Brad. "You are going to have to unfuck yourself and check your trust issues, because I'm not --"

Going to finish that sentence, Brad thinks as he pushes him up against the wall and presses their mouths together, before pulling away just enough to run his tongue along Nate's lips. He licks at his mouth, broad strokes of his tongue that wipe away the lipstick, which tastes like something he doesn't want anymore. Nate makes a soft noise, but holds still as Brad sucks on his lips, first the top and then the bottom, making sure every sticky trace is gone, before softening his mouth and tongue into something more like a kiss.

"I know what you're not," he says, voice low, pulling away. Nate's lips are puffy and red; Brad can't look away from them. "I know who you are. You pushed her away before she even got a taste of you, didn't you, sir? She probably even knew you were going to, but couldn't stop herself from trying, because, fuck, who wouldn't? I look at your mouth and I want to kiss it, touch it, fuck it, whatever you'll let me do. You suck my cock, but I think that I could get off just from watching you do this." He drags his finger down Nate's lips, and his mouth opens. Brad let his finger slide down Nate's bottom lip, pulling it from his mouth a little, slicking his finger before he brings it back up and teases Nate's tongue with it, pushing in and out.

When he adds a second finger, Nate closes his lips over them and twists his tongue around them, bites down gently. Christ, Brad is, in fact, about to come in his pants, in this filthy alley. Maybe not all that different from coming against a berm, in a MOPP suit, but they have better options now. He pulls his hand away and presses into Nate, who's warm and hard against him. "Backseat of Walt's car?"


End file.
